I am numb. I want to throw myself against the wall just to feel. My senses have run-off with the memory of you. In my dumb blindness I’m feeling around someone else’s scent in a thirsty attempt to taste your feeling.

I won’t let myself cry. I’ll scratch away at my tear ducts so I’ll never know the pain of a tear again. I’ll snap my eyes shut and won’t open them up again until everything of you has gone.

Everyone’s only ever in love with the idea of her. They like her performance. She draws in many fleeting fans but not supporters.
With her sight withering and her back stooping, what she has established as her foundational support simply disbands in search of new fun to feast on. In vain she sweated so harshly while dancing for their judgemental eyes that their idea of her melted off of her skin and she was left naked and alone.

Fight the monster dragon girl.
You are fuelled by a powerful inner fire, use it.
Stand high on your strong posture.
Raise your sinewy chin in superiority
Roar.
Steam the bastardry
incinerate them.
Bye bye.

Black tears flow in the gully alongside her lost voice.
She stoops under the remains of her rooted tree.
No longer sheltered, green anti-gravity takes her.
Her black tears turn painfully red as her cheeks are hit by lead raindrops.
Like the lead, her heart was too heavy to lift; so it lay stationary and vulnerable in the dirt.

He ensnarled her with his brutal guitar and poetry.
He was her first artisté.
He was oh so talented and even more tortured.
His twisted teeth spoke artery shattering words.
Under the depth of his performance she lay buried in dirt, thinking she was searching for a clover.
Hopefully she clawed and moulded herself to his grave.

I want but I feel I have nothing new to contribute, nothing of substance or worth. But, it is how I am, how I react, how I move, what I create on occasion that no one else can do. I want to do what no one else can do but I’m too lazy to work towards it. My self-esteem is in shreds and it is because I have become dependent. Dependant on drugs, alcohol, approval, men - superficial momentary highs that end in zombied depressive comedowns.

I’m too lazy to try. I hate myself too much, I’m too lazy and yet my ego is too big to work on myself. A wise woman once said: ‘U can never be loved deeply if you don’t love yourself’.